In all that his brother had told me about brian, he'd never mentioned that he was so damn good-looking.

Not the smooth good looks of a catalog model.

But the rough-around-the-edges kind that made my breath catch in my throat and set my pulse racing his rain-soaked thick black hair was smoothed back from his forehead, emphasizing the strong lines of his face, lean cheeks, a square jaw and a blunt chin.

He badly needed a shave, Olivia noticed, and his thin white shirt was soaked through, cinging to the lines of his muscular chest and broad shoulders.

And yes, damp, bedraggled and mud splattered, he was still the most attractive man who had crossed my path in ages. But I pulled my gaze away with conscious etfort. Get a grip girl, I coached herself. This guy's the enemy. **********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************